


a keen wench and a tired knight

by goldstraw



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASoIaF Kink Meme, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 19:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldstraw/pseuds/goldstraw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the asoiaf kinkmeme on lj. Prompt by anonymous: "He remembers how awkward and shy the Maid of Tarth was the first few times. Now Jaime is surprised that his wench can wear him out - though he kind of likes it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	a keen wench and a tired knight

They collapse next to each other, hot and panting and legs entangled. In the long moments afterwards as they recover their breath and their wits, Brienne grins as she stares up at the deep red canopy of their bed. She can’t help herself for joy surges round her body, chasing the heated blood that reddens her cheeks and chest and tingles down below. She has grown to love these quiet moments as much as she loves the others that lead to it. She loves the man who has shown her how to find them.

Cool air whispers over her sweaty skin and she presses her body against Jaime’s, to seek his warmth once again. His eyes are closed and he almost looks half asleep, with the tenderness that belies the lust, the primitive possessive stare that had filled his eyes and his face not long ago. She, on the other hand, couldn’t feel more awake, more aware, more aroused. It is a drug, the way she feels now, although a maester could never brew such a concoction. Only him, her tired knight, makes her experience such highs and she wants it again. In a fit of confidence and an urge yet fully satisfied, she sits up and manoeuvres herself so that she straddles him, rearranging her long limbs carefully around his hips. The quick boom boom boom of his heart thrums from him into her and sets her own racing again, making the hairs on her neck stand up in anticipation.

When she looks up, he is watching with a familiar dark glint to his eyes. The way his look takes all of her in, from her ruined face and broad shoulders to her barely there breasts makes her squirm. It is still a revelation, this realisation that she is wanted by a man that could have had anyone and yet saw past all that she was not and could never be. It is the same for him perhaps, she thinks. She hopes so. Craving his touch more than ever, she leans down and presses a kiss to his mouth, which he returns after a split second of hesitation.

“I’m an old man, remember?” he murmurs into her hair as she moves her kisses down his jaw, his neck, hands brushing over the sparse wiry hair that covers his chest. She can feel the scars that scatter his body; the abrupt change of texture under the pads of her fingers.

She nips his shoulder in rebuke. “No, you’re not.”

“Past my prime.”

“Not for me,” she says, determined to prove him wrong, so wrong. She moves back to his lips once again, hot and fierce and with no doubt as to her intent. The way his hand and stump slide up her thighs makes her shiver suddenly and she sits back up, long fingers resting on his muscled chest, wanting to draw the pleasure out a little longer.

“I never thought I would have to keep up with such a  _keen_  wench,” he says, with a half smile that does not hide his amused surprise.

She blushes furiously and looks away, embarrassed that her forwardness has been put into words. “It’s only that I never thought I would have a-a-a— “ His hand on her cheek stops her struggling.  She leans into it and looks up at him again, wanting his reassurance. She needs the faith he has in her like the air she breathes. Taking a deep breath, she continues. “You gave me a chance… you were so patient with me at first and for that I-I-I am grateful.”

His eyes flash and pushing down hard on his arms, he sits up and they work their way backwards so that he can lean on the headboard. As his fingers run up her ribs and over her breast, his other arm pulls her even tighter to him and he looks up at her and kisses her until all the breath goes from her body.

“My brave wench,” he murmurs against her lips. “Always so grateful.” He pulls away a fraction so that he can look her in the eye. “But I’m the lucky one. Your shyness, your awkwardness is one of your charms, whether you like to think so or not.” She watches his face crease with laughter. “And teaching you has been a delight…and now, well what is it that they say? Practice makes perfect? I couldn’t possibly say no to that, _to you,_ even if it does mean I am not at my most productive in the mornings.”

She raises an eyebrow as his exaggerations of her supposed qualities and gives a half-innocent shrug of her shoulders. “You can blame me, if that’s what troubles you.”

He shakes his head and sighs dramatically. “Already am. You’re the cause of all my bloody woes, since the first day I met you.”

Her mouth opens in outrage but all that comes out of it is a squeal that turns to a breathless giggle as he pushes her up and back and finds the place he’s been wanting to kiss since she first swung a leg over him.

**Author's Note:**

> reviews make the world go round!


End file.
